


Redeemable Things 🎁

by murderlight



Category: Bleach
Genre: Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, F/F, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 14:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20311171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderlight/pseuds/murderlight
Summary: "So, what are you getting him?"In quick succession, Ichigo finds two things to be true: one, that Grimmjow actually has a birthday, and two, that Ichigo has no idea what to get him. Invited to a belated party at the Urahara shop, Ichigo comes to grips with the post-war realisation that things may have changed so much that he has nothing to offer his once-enemy.Not that Ichigo is going to let that stop him.





	Redeemable Things 🎁

“So, what are you getting him?”

Urahara’s question came out of the blue on a Saturday afternoon, halfway through helping him set up some new obstacles and reiryoku draining devices in the underground training bunker. Ichigo didn’t mind lending a hand, especially since it usually earned him a free meal and the chance to rummage in Urahara’s shinigami supplies for cool things he could use. All the same, it was sweaty, dirty and tiring work helping pound posts into the dirt and cover up stake pits, and Ichigo had been doing it for just long enough that he’d totally been tuning Urahara’s cheerful gossip out. A little embarrassed to be caught, Ichigo leaned on their latest wooden post and wiped his forehead with his arm.

“Getting what for who?”

“Ahh, my diligent Kurosaki-san, you were working so hard you inadvertently ignored everything I was saying!” Urahara didn’t have his fan with him but Ichigo could hear its presence in his voice. They’d long since dropped their shirts after sweating through the material, leaving Urahara wearing only his green jinbei pants and Ichigo in a pair of worn jeans. Something about it felt like male role model bonding time, except Urahara wasn’t a viable role model for anybody hoping to stay sane and out of prison. “I was referring to Grimmjow-san’s birthday. We missed it entirely—through no fault of our own!—and have decided for his stupendous efforts in aiding cross-dimension trade links with Hueco Mundo, we’re going to throw him a late party. Which you’re invited to, of course!”

Aiding cross-dimension trade links just sounded a lot like Urahara was using him as a pack mule. Ichigo hadn’t really seen Grimmjow much since he joined them in Soul Society to defeat the Wandenreich, but he’d known Urahara had kept in contact. The details were scant and they were all keeping tight-lipped about it, but Nel had told him they’d all almost died out there. Ichigo knew that kind of thing forged ties. Still, a birthday party? That raised…questions.

“Since when do hollows have birthdays?”

“Since Aizen slapped one on them post-evolution, I expect.”

“Huh. But Grimmjow doesn’t seem the type to care about parties.” Ichigo reached down for the next wooden post in the stack. “Let me guess, you’ve got some weird plan in mind.” Heaving it up, he planted it into the hole Urahara had dug out, both of them rocking it into place and kicking dirt in around it.

“Not at all!” Urahara said, raking straw-coloured hair off his face to smile at him. “It’s a complete coincidence that we’ve invited Tier Harribel and her entourage here to celebrate at around the same time I’d like to showcase a new arrancar gigai range.”

“Called it.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very clever. It’s set for next Saturday, down here at six pm. Bring a gift! I know you’re poor so it’s really the thought that counts.”

“I’m not poor,” Ichigo said in irritation. “But I don’t know if I want to buy a gift for the guy who wants to brutally murder me. He’ll just boot it into the sunset anyway.” He got the impression Urahara wasn’t really listening when he picked up Ichigo’s shirt to wipe his face on it.

An arrancar birthday party. Well, stranger things had probably happened, and there probably wasn’t any harm in it.

All Ichigo had to do was come up with a birthday gift for Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

Easy.  


* * *

  
“You could always get him a butcher’s apron. You know, so he’s not always splattering himself with blood when he impales people,” Rukia said, forever taking the piss. “Or a big glove! One of those shoulder-high gloves that farmers use to shove up cow vaginas when they’re pregnant.”

“You are no help,” Ichigo said loudly into the phone, slapping the lid of his laptop shut. Surprising nobody, eBay was full of cheap nothingness and unboxed anime merchandise. “Should I just buy him something to polish his sword? Does he even do that?”

“He’s a guy, isn’t he?” Rukia snickered, rustling in the background of the call. She was multi-tasking in Soul Society, probably doing all that lieutenant paperwork Renji always complained about. “All guys are obsessed with their swords. But I bet Tessai or Urahara are already getting him that. You’re going to have to dive deep, Ichigo. What do you know about him?”

“He’s an arrancar…who turns into a retro cat man?”

“A what?!” she laughed. Something hit the floor in the background. Belatedly Ichigo realised she’d never seen Grimmjow’s released form.

“Uh yeah, like a white armour jumpsuit with a little headband. His hair gets all long. You remember those old fitness programs that used to come on tv when you lived here? It’s kinda like that, except he almost killed me.”

“You’ve obviously never done joint morning drills with eleventh division.” Humming thoughtfully, Rukia seemed to be mulling it all over. An entire dimension away, Ichigo chewed his lip and fidgeted on the downstairs couch. “Look, I’m not sure. Maybe just get him a gift card for Urahara’s store? It doesn’t have to be that deep, you know. Grimmjow doesn’t like you and you don’t like him, so you can’t hurt his feelings. Just phone it in. How much time do you have to think about it?”

“Two days. Hey,” Ichigo said, possessed with sudden inspiration, “could you take a leave of absence on Saturday and come down?”

“Why, are you planning on giving me to him? That’s illegal,” she sniffed. “Only nii-sama can do that.”

“Anyone ever told you that Soul Society has some really sick laws?”

“It’s been mentioned once or twice. I could try but I don’t see it happening unless there’s someone to cover me. Anyway, why not speak to Nel about this? Surely she’ll have some ideas.”

“Uh.” Memories of exuberant Nel diving clear over the top of Grimmjow’s dramatic entrance to greet him in Seireitei said they probably didn’t get along too well. “I’ll think about it.”

“Mm. Good luck, Ichigo.”

“Thanks.” The disconnecting click of the call seemed to echo in the living room.

Well that was no fucking help, and had the unexpected side-effect of turning him off ever polishing Zangetsu again. He didn’t realise it was a dick thing. Scrubbing his hands through his hair, he spotted Karin walking into the kitchen.

“Hey, what would you buy as a gift for someone who tried to kill you a few times?”

“A restraining order,” she said flatly. “Are there any of those milk pudding cups left? I’ve revised for exams as much as I can take without bribing myself.”

“No, Dad ate the last one.” Karin went beet red with the murderous rage of someone denied a craving.

“He’s fucking lactose intolerant!”

“Yeah, he said something about shitting through the eye of a needle being worth it. But I think there’s some carrots in the crisper.”

“You can stick your carrots right up your ginger—oh, hey Yuzu.” As ever, Karin simmered down on the threats toward Ichigo when Yuzu was around. Nobody liked to piss off Yuzu. “What would _ you _ buy as a gift for someone who’d tried to kill you in the past?”

Yuzu, halfway through picking her underwear out of her ass, blushed pink and stood at attention. She was wearing flannel pyjamas with little pencils all over them. She called them her lucky study pyjamas. Were they up to their final exams already? Jeez, they really were going to be seniors next year. Ichigo felt a sudden, quiet stab of worry, the kind that cropped up when it felt like time was moving just a little too fast for his liking. But then Yuzu darted across to the couch and threw herself down against Ichigo’s bicep, hugging it with both arms.

“If I liked them, I’d invite them for dinner with us,” she said brightly. “But if I didn’t, I’d still invite them for dinner with us, but I’d add a strong sedative to their meal. When they were good and unconscious, I’d lay out some plastic on the floor, cut them into pieces at the joints and slow cook the meat down. Then I’d mince their organs for the dogs at the local shelter. For the bones, I’d have to disguise their shape so…” Her idea went on for another five minutes while she meticulously rattled off how to get away with the perfect murder, feed the homeless and get a job at the animal shelter, plus come out with a few thousand yen in the back pocket. By the end of it, Karin was chewing on a stray carrot in fascination, sitting cross-legged at her sister’s feet. Her fingers were twiddling the end of her ponytail, which said she was listening intently. God damn it, his family was weird.

“What do you do with the toenails?” Karin asked eventually. Yuzu shrugged.

“Oh, they’re small enough to wad up in toilet paper and flush away. Scalp too, if you do it in portions.”

Ichigo hung his head. Then he snapped upright.

“Hey, Yuzu, you want to borrow some of Urahara’s gear and meet an arrancar this weekend? I think you’d get along.”

“I’m coming too,” Karin said instantly, and maybe they weren’t gifts but two more guests couldn’t hurt. Especially not when they were Ichigo’s apparently murderous twin sisters.

So that was one thing, even if his desperate search continued.  


* * *

  
Kon, ever relegated to his stuffed lion form when Ichigo was in his body, wanted nothing to do with the whole party, which included helping Ichigo brainstorm ideas.

“I don’t care! What’s the point? I’m not enabling you to have fun while I’m stuck looking like a clearance item at Shitty Animal Toys ‘R’ Us. I hope this blue guy hates your gift so much he kicks your ass right off!” Sprawled on Ichigo’s bed in a dramatic pose, he put his back to the room at large and huffed. “If you want my sensitive wisdom and expertise, you’re gonna have to fulfil three of my wishes—”

“Yoruichi will be there, you can have my body and yes, you can drink alcohol.” Kon flipped over like a hot pancake.

“Don’t presume to know my desires!” he cried, his button-black eyes shining with excitement. “Can I wear whatever I want?”

“If it’s from my wardrobe….sure.” Offhand he couldn’t remember anything he owned that would embarrass him. Ichigo had pretty good style, if he did say so himself. “Now shut up and let me tell you everything I know about Grimmjow, and then you give me some good gift ideas. That’s the deal.”

“Fine, fine. Hideously, I’m instinctively good at knowing what men want. It’s my heterosexual curse.”

“Kon, you’re not that straight.”

“You shut your gorgeous hole!”

They brainstormed long into the night, folded up on the bed with the laptop and an old school notepad for jotting down ideas, diagrams and dick pictures that Kon tried to scrawl while Ichigo went down for coffee and snacks, but mostly they sat and talked about Ichigo’s time in Hueco Mundo all those years ago, trying to free Inoue. When they got to the part with Ulquiorra’s death, Kon plodded over and sat on Ichigo’s knee. His fuzzy brow was knit in confusion.

“Ichigo, you told me that guy killed you twice while in full possession of his wits, but you still feel guilty about half-killing him while you had completely lost yours?”

“Technicalities,” Ichigo countered. “And Grimmjow freed Inoue to heal me the first time Ulquiorra shot me through the chest.”

“Yeah, that Grimmjow really sounds like a guy who wants to brutally kill you.” Kon snorted and rolled onto the laptop, soaking in the heat from it. “Sounds like he’s more worried about measuring his own strength.”

Scribbling a pattern of interlocking S’s down the margin of his notepad, Ichigo looked up and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the only people who want their enemy fully healed before they murder them are interested in finding a good yardstick to measure their growth against. It’s personal drive, Ichigo. This guy probably thought he had something to prove.”

“No, that was me,” Ichigo insisted. “I was the one scrambling back then to get strong enough to face him.” Those had been some rough, dark days. Rukia’s impalement, Inoue’s broken arm, his apology; all a knot that still hadn’t loosened entirely. “If we hadn’t kept being interrupted by Tousen and Shinji before I travelled there, I’d be dead. Rukia would be dead.”

“Pshht. That was over five years ago, and he hasn’t come back to stab your eyes out while you sleep.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t know where I live.” Kon covered his face with his paws.

“And maybe he’s doing runs for Urahara because he wants to run into you,” he said patiently. “If you’re telling me he crawled back from death in Hueco Mundo just to join your side and kill quincies, almost got killed himself and still hangs around in the world of the living, my intelligent guess is that he’s still sniffing around for you.” Sitting up, Kon folded his stuffed legs into a neat tuck. “Let’s be honest here: nobody chooses to hang around Urahara Kisuke except for the painfully lonely and the financially dependent.”

Thinking about how he just spent his entire last weekend with Urahara putting together stupid obstacle courses, Ichigo genuinely couldn’t argue with the assessment. It wasn’t his fault half his friends moved away after school for study and the other half lived in Soul Society. He was just…at a study crossroads. Or something. There was no university degree to become a seated shinigami when you were still human.

“So what are you saying? I tie a red bow around my neck and show up Saturday to say hi?”

“I’m saying if it’s you, you probably don’t need some dumb gift.” Getting to his feet, Kon grabbed a spare pen off the quilt and brandished it like a sword. “Maybe you just need to turn up and be you? Only this time, this Grimmjow guy won’t have to switch sides and almost die just to get to you. Seems like a good gift to me.” He cut down in a pretty sweet angle with the pen, which Ichigo absently parried with his own.

“It’s good manners to show up with a gift,” Ichigo said thoughtfully, trading a flurry of blows that actually chipped the plastic of his ballpoint. “But you’ve given me something to think about, I guess. Thanks, Kon. You can stop trying to stab me in the dick now. It’ll be yours in a day and a half.” Kon dropped his weapon so fast he tripped on it and face-planted into the mattress.

None of the advice he’d been given had really pinned down a decent gift idea, but then maybe it really should be up to him to think of something good. The thought counted, and all that. Maybe Grimmjow would laugh in his face, but at least nobody would be able to say Kurosaki Ichigo didn’t observe birthday party rules. And sometimes, getting Urahara and Yoruichi’s approval meant more in the long run. It sure led to less embarrassing errands, anyway.

There was still a day to go, anyway. Ichigo had all of Friday to come up with something.

He just…had to stew on it for a while.

Yeah.  


* * *

  
Saturday evening rolled around too quickly, and before he knew it Ichigo was staring up at the Urahara Shop’s worn, painted sign, fidgeting in his shihakushou. It felt like there was a hive of bees in his stomach. Angry, borderline suicidal bees. The sun was almost entirely set behind him, painting the old building in orange light and blue shadows. The light inside the door was warm though, and the cluster of little blue balloons hanging off the streetlight said Urahara hadn’t been kidding about a party.

He’d told Kon and the girls to arrive after him at seven, just in case it all went downhill for any reason. With an hour up his sleeve, ten minutes late to fashionably arrive, Ichigo sucked in a deep breath and walked inside.

The cacophonous hit of reiatsu as he walked inside was like a landslide of sensation: different colours, pressures, density of different arrancar and shinigami hitting him all at once, from all sides. The shop was entirely cloaked in different layers of bakudou to hide the occupants’ spiritual signatures, which Ichigo knew made sense. The kind of radar blip that would have put out could have summoned the entire gotei thirteen to the living world, if detected. As it was, his head rang with the sudden onslaught and he wasn’t even in the bunker yet.

“Oh, Ichigo!” Jinta said, waving with his leg. Both his arms were occupied with an enormous tray balanced on his head, laden with what looked like entree snacks. “You made it! They’re all down the hatch. Go check it out! Kisuke did some amazing work with the remodelling. He says you helped out too, so I think he wants to thank you personally. Did you eat already? I’ll be down with food soon. If you see Ururu, tell her the drinks arrived.”

“Sure, okay. You want me to put my swords aside somewhere?”

“Why, you wanna die?” Jinta laughed. “Take them down! You might need them.”

That sounded alarming. What kind of party needed zanpakutou and alcohol in tandem? Was it all going to turn into a bloodbath? But Ichigo followed orders, winding down the short hallways of the house and following taped-down arrows on the tatami until he reached the training room hatch, which was held open by another balloon. Sucking in his stomach and trying not to squirm in self-conscious panic, Ichigo sent up a small prayer and jumped down the hole.

The fall seemed strangely dark compared to his usual descent down there, with darkness and bright light whistling past him. Checking his speed, he saw a large landing pad lit with candles down below, marking out a perfect X on the dirt. Aiming dead centre, breath whooshing out, Ichigo straightened up and looked around.

“Holy shit.”

The training arena had been completely transformed.

Gone was the scattering of rock formations and the fake daylight ceiling, the silence and the solitude. In its place was a multicoloured night carnival that smelled like popcorn and cotton candy, cloaked by a massive midnight sky lit with thousands of artificial white stars. Cheerful music piped from speakers somewhere, almost drowned out by the laughter coming from within the array of lights and entertainment. Man, was that a house of mirrors? And the obstacle course Ichigo had helped put together! It had been painted in fluorescent glow in the dark paint, advertised with a sign about making it through for a prize at the end. Squinting into the dark, Ichigo could swear he could see people riding on Bawabawa in the distance. The enormous stomach worm was howling with excitement, wriggling from one end of the bunker to the other.

Entranced, forgetting his nerves, Ichigo wandered into the entrance where the lights were brightest. Strings of rainbow coloured light bulbs criss-crossed overhead, opening into a walkway dotted by small stalls offering different games and snacks. Urahara had pulled out all the stops and turned a huge portion of the bunker into…kind of a wonderland. Even the hot springs had been decorated with buckets and towels, two large flaming torches flickering at the pool entrance. A sign beside it promised healing and an almost guaranteed peeping tom of some description.

“This is insane,” Ichigo breathed, smiling despite himself. Picking up his pace, he headed for the people he could hear talking in the seating area up ahead. The smell of food and promise of some good company made the last week of stress all worth it.

“Kurosaki-san!” Urahara called, gesturing him over to the park bench and table he was seated at. “Come and meet the queen of Hueco Mundo! I was just listening to the most wonderful story of how you saved her fracciones from a quincy.”

“All I did was interrupt the fight,” Ichigo replied, rounding the corner of a ridiculously oversized old-timey popcorn machine. Where had they even gotten all that stuff? “I wasn’t even the one who killed him.”

“Interrupted the finishing blow, I believe.” Tier Harribel looked up at him from beneath thick yellow eyelashes. Sitting across from Urahara under the warm lights, dressed in little more than a bone-plated skirt and tiny breastplate, she still managed to command a terrifying noble dignity. With hair looking like it had been spun from gold, her green gaze level and unknowable, she was horribly measuring as she scanned him from orange head to sandaled toe. “Unless you’re implying Mila Rose has lied to me.”

Ichigo went rigid. “Nope. I definitely saved their asses.”

“Good.” She accepted the sake dish Urahara filled for her. “Then it is a pleasure to meet you, Kurosaki Ichigo. I believe Nelliel is down with the overzealous tapeworm, if you would like to make your greetings to her. She’s been excited to see you again.” The corner of her lips turned down in a way that made Ichigo think Harribel didn’t really like him that much after all. Eager to escape the judgy table of authority, he almost bolted at the dismissal, but hesitated when he looked around the place.

“Is Grimmjow here somewhere?”

“Oh, somewhere,” Urahara said merrily, “but it’s been an effort finding him so I gave up! Perhaps Yoruichi-san can locate him. She’s ever so light on her feet.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like crowds,” Ichigo said doubtfully. There wasn’t actually anyone except those two in the immediate vicinity. “Or noise. Or lights. Or people.”

“All of the above,” Harribel said, sighing heavily. Some of the regal poise in her shoulders loosened until her forearms smacked the table. The dish of sake was drained already. “He and Nelliel are my strongest but she’s as stubborn as a ram and he’s as temperamental as a cat. Not to mention my squabbling fracciones.” She dragged a fingertip through the sake residue and licked her finger. The eyes she raised to Urahara were curious. “You appear to have similarly colourful associates. How do you control them?”

“He doesn’t,” Ichigo said, watching Urahara snap open his fan and laugh behind it like a madman. “He’s crazier than they are. But he’s serious when the situation is, and he’s a great friend to have in a crisis. We know we can trust him, even if he’s an annoying asshole sometimes.”

“Kurosaki-san,” Urahara said. The fan slid shut to reveal a wobbling mouth. “I’m truly touched. I’ve never heard you speak so fondly about me. Could you say it again when Yoruichi-san is nearby?”

“Hell no.”

“Alas.” Perking up instantly, Urahara grabbed the tokkuri on the table and rose, gesturing for Harribel to follow him. “Come now, I want you to see my lovely parasol collection of arrancar gigai! They’re very feminine and modest, I assure you. Perfect for blending into a crowd on a festival night in the living world.”

“Do I look like somebody who cares about modesty?” Harribel said coolly, and Urahara very determinedly did not stare at her ample chest. Ichigo did, however, and that was when he saw it.

“Is that your espada number?” He pointed directly at the black number three on the inner curve of her right breast. “Does that mean Nel was the number three before you?” Trying not to fidget, he watched her graze her fingers over the tattoo thoughtfully.

“Yes. Before her injury and disappearance, she was ranked third.” The flat line of her mouth picked up a little. “The numbers all shuffled down briefly until I was made arrancar. Grimmjow himself was number five for almost an entire week.” The mention of him again made Ichigo look around, but amidst the music, the lights and overlapping reiatsu, it was no surprise he was nowhere to be seen. Tracking him down seemed like too much effort, and besides, Ichigo didn’t even have a gift. He looked back to Urahara and Harribel to see them exchanging a quick, knowing glance before they linked arms and headed for what looked like a creepy mannequin display of clones. Right. The gigai. Leaving them to it, Ichigo headed further into the madness, hoping to see other friendly faces. Had Urahara said Yoruichi was in there somewhere?

Passing an enormous bouncy house, a mini golf course and what looked like one of those stalls where you have to shoot the small balloons except there weren’t any guns, Ichigo found his head swivelling on his neck trying to take in everything that had been set up. It was all so…much. Who was Urahara trying to impress? Harribel? Grimmjow? Or did he just want to throw a massive party?

Finding another open area with benches and the tantalising smell of actual food trailing toward him, he jogged into a new area that looked more like an outdoor food court. And food was everywhere. Ichigo spied a familiar woman having an arm-wrestling match with Yoruichi and practically skipped over. She was locked in what appeared to be a stalemate with a taller, broader woman with curling brown hair and bronze skin. They were grinning like idiots and sweating bullets.

“I never like to bet against you, but she looks like she could wipe the floor with you,” Ichigo commented, scratching his chin as he looked between the two. “You’re Mila Rose, right?”

“Shut up, Ichigo,” Yoruichi said breathlessly, looking about two seconds from grabbing the table for leverage. “You’re killing my concentration.”

“Like you had any,” Mila Rose laughed, her fingers flexing around Yoruichi’s slimmer hand. The grip wavered to one side, then the other. Beside them, the snake woman was sipping from a straw hidden behind her sleeve and looking bored. The leaner, angry one with the dog spot around her eye was on all fours on top of the table, bent down like a referee about to slap the floor to end a match. The hands wavered again, and a long drip of sweat streaked down Yoruichi’s temple. Her grin was fierce.

“You’re pretty good,” she said. Again, hands trembled. Mila Rose grinned ferociously.

“Thanks.”

“I’m gonna fuck your queen.”

“_What— _”

The table broke with the force of Mila Rose’s hand being driven down into the wood, and Yoruichi shrieked like a victorious banshee. Apacci howled and fell onto the ground. Sung-Sun’s drink shot out her nose, and exercising some survival instinct for once, Ichigo got the fuck out of there at speed before he got dragged into a fight. He did, however, grab a tray of tiny food off one of the other tables before he left. They were all too busy to notice he’d stolen food anyway.

Where the hell was Grimmjow? Anyone would think he’d be there laughing his ass off at the arm wrestling, or lining up to be next. Competitive bastard loved shit like that. Didn’t he? Kon’s words filtered back to him, and for the first time Ichigo wondered if maybe Grimmjow hadn’t bothered to find him because he didn’t feel like he needed to prove anything. Or he’d set his sights on a new opponent. Hell, maybe without a war to fight, he just didn’t care. It wasn’t like he’d tried to find him in the time between Aizen’s defeat and Yhwach’s attack. Man, that was actually kind of depressing to think about.

Should he just go home?

“Ichigooooo!” called a euphoric voice from well into the distance. “You’re finally here! Bawabawa, superspeed!” Two enormous eyes glowed yellow in the darkness and then they were right fucking in front of him, giant lips parted in a massive sharp-toothed smile. On top of Bawabawa’s plated head, Nel was waving madly down at him. “We were just doing laps of this incredible room! I’m so happy to see you! Is that food? I’m so hungry I could eat a wayward soul.”

“Who’s we?” Ichigo asked, wondering if Pesche or Dondochakka had come too. Nel slithered down Bawabawa’s back and started grabbing food off Ichigo’s tray at random. Still wearing the same style of bodysuit he remembered, he was interested to see there was a lightning strike insignia on what looked like some new metal shoulder plates. Harribel’s estigma mark, Ichigo thought, feeling smart.

“Fool, who do you think?” said Rukia, jumping straight off Bawabawa’s head and landing in front of him. She was dressed for work as always, her lieutenant badge tied tightly around her arm. “I go to all the trouble of taking tonight off for you and you forgot about me?” Like Nel, she started grabbing snacks off the tray while Ichigo stood there like a pleased butler with his hands full. “I even brought Grimmjow a gift, but nobody can find the maniac.”

“He probably went home,” Nel said, chewing with her mouth open. She smelled like spring rolls. “He hates people. I saw him steal Urahara’s new gigai for him and run for it. So strange seeing him bolt away while bridal carrying a passed out-looking clone of himself. The parasol and yukata did look nice, though.”

“Sounds weird,” Ichigo said, unable to even begin picturing it. “Hey, can I put this tray down? I’m thirsty, and Kon and my sisters should be coming soon.”

Rukia choked. “Kon is coming here? Is that a good idea with Harribel walking around? She’s exactly his type, except she’ll kill him. Is he in your body?”

“Yeah.”

“My condolences. You lived a rich and full life as a human.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“No, you really didn’t.” Taking the tray, Rukia offered the last few dumplings to Nel, who shook her head. Ichigo grabbed them before Rukia could bite them off the tray. “So much for gallantry!”

“I’m not the fucking host!” Ichigo argued, cramming one into his mouth before she could snag it out of his hand. “Geff orr own food.” Flipping him off with a stick-like middle finger, Rukia ditched him to go do just that with the empty tray tucked under her arm. Nel, far kinder and more understanding, hung around to keep him company, producing a small bottle of what Ichigo was pretty sure was vodka from the smell of it. “Have you two been drinking and worming?”

“Yes.” Nel’s voice was pure satisfaction. “This place is insane! There’s a deadly obstacle course, food and drink all over, plus all those weird games.” Taking a large gulp from her bottle, she handed it across to Ichigo, who grimaced but decided to keep it. “I still can’t believe Harribel-sama left Las Noches for this. I was ready to beg her when she first refused, but then she just seemed to change her mind.” She scratched her magenta-stained cheek curiously. “Maybe I have some kind of secondary brainwashing ability.”

“Maybe.” Thinking back to Harribel’s frown, Ichigo thought maybe it wasn’t a secret ability Nel had at all. “Should you be leaving her alone with Urahara? He’s still kind of a perve, you know.” Hesitating a moment, he added, “So is Yoruichi, who I think is probably the bigger danger.”

“I don’t want to work tonight.” Sliding her arms around Ichigo’s shoulders from behind, she dug her chin down into the crook of his neck and sighed. “Harribel-sama doesn’t even like me much, you know? She’s so beautiful and stern, and I can’t help it that Grimmjow and I disagree all the time. He’s so infuriating. You smell really nice. Do I smell nice? I washed my hair and everything.”

“You smell fine to me.”

“I would die for you,” she said happily, and kissed his cheek. And that was the duality of Nel: a strong, clever and noble warrior in a fight, and an affectionate dork at any other time. Or maybe it was just Ichigo. He doubted she acted like that around Grimmjow. Carefully, he extracted himself from her tipsy embrace and started to lead her back toward the lights of the party, hoping that Yoruichi and Mila Rose hadn’t killed each other. Grimmjow might have gone back to Hueco Mundo already, but there was no reason they couldn’t all still enjoy the night.

The next hour passed in shades of hilarity and occasional terror, mainly brought on by Tessai and Urahara pulling out what looked like one of those interactive dance mats, except they’d wired it for a game of twister. Twister, as Ichigo quickly found out, was a game in which someone yelled out a colour and a body part for a player, and they had to brutally contort themselves to put that limb on the colour without collapsing. Falling resulted in an electric shock that injured all players, which Urahara stated proudly was in the interest of forging greater ties and team work. Weird thing was, Urahara politely declined to play.

By that point Yuzu, Karin and Kon had arrived, Yuzu drugged to the brim with enough reiryoku pills that she could see everything and everyone. Her eyes were huge as she beamed excitedly at everyone, including the fearsome Mila Rose, who immediately grabbed her and put her on one broad shoulder like a new accessory.

“This human infant is now mine,” she shouted to everyone at large, only to be grandly tackled by a sobbing Jinta, who mostly bounced off her washboard abs and landed down one of the concealed spike pits. Yuzu looked like it was her damn birthday party. Kon and Karin were heading directly for the twister board, pulling off non-essential flapping clothing as they went. Yoruichi was already down to her shunko bodysuit and rubbing what looked like oil from the deep fryer down her arms and in her cleavage.

“Oi, Ichigo! Are you playing?” she called, pulling her neckline out so Tessai could dutifully fit his oiled-up hand in. “C’mon, I smell like sexy fries now!”

“Thanks, but not with my sister on the board,” he replied, pulling right back to sit up on a nearby table, content to watch the entire thing play out with his borrowed bottle of vodka. “And I like my spine intact.”

“Pussy.” Like a quick draw western, they gave each other the bird at the exact same time. Harribel, waving regally to give Nel and Apacci permission to participate, said a quiet word to Sung-Sun and stood, approaching where Ichigo was playing amused audience on the sidelines. Tessai and Kon were undressing each other with the grim faces of competitive opponents, getting down to bare feet and chests in seconds. Kon had even made good on his promise to dress only from Ichigo’s wardrobe, even if it was a pair of fashionably torn black jeans from his high school days, meaning they were now skintight, low-riding and showed an inch of asscrack. Paired with a sleeveless maroon t-shirt from the same era, he looked like everyone’s favourite twink at the gay club. So much for straight, the dumbass.

“They’re having a lot of fun,” Harribel said thoughtfully, hopping up beside him to sit on the tabletop, her white-booted feet planted wide on the flat seat below. Her askance look was very green. “You don’t seem to be.” Outside the twister mat, Yuzu was calling out positions for the players in preparation for the first random spin of the wheel. Said wheel was a giant game show-sized thing with three separate rotating segments for player number, limb, and colour. Below them, the mat was flickering with faint blue crackling sparks. Mila Rose seemed to be content playing beast of burden to his sister, Ichigo thought fondly. Yuzu would be having the time of her life.

“I’m having fun,” Ichigo said, fingers twisting the cap of his bottle. “I’m having as much fun as you are. Does Nel know about your feelings for her?”

Harribel grabbed the vodka straight out of his hands, pulled off the lid and took a deep slug straight from its neck. When she handed it back to Ichigo there was a dusky flush across her cheeks that probably had nothing to do with the alcohol.

“So, I’m that obvious.”

“Not really. Stab in the dark, mostly.” Taking a sip of his own, Ichigo held the liquid in his mouth for two fortifying seconds before gulping it down. “Ah god, my nose.” The warm glow of an imminent buzz hit his stomach and spread up to his chest. “She thinks you disapprove of her because she fights with Grimmjow.”

“She does. Every day they fight like siblings.” Grabbing one beaded length of yellow hair, Harribel peered at the soft ends without really seeing them. “Every order I give, he will refuse, or she will argue. He never wants to stay, and she never wants to leave.” She blew out a long, tired breath. “I had thought coming here might change some of that.” When Ichigo just stared at her in surprised silence, she glanced away. “I apologise for my frankness. I’ve heard nothing but praise for you and your…insight, into people who rightfully should be your enemy and your opposite.”

Ichigo snorted before he could help himself. “If there’s one thing this last week has taught me, it’s that I don’t know anything. So here’s to being clueless assholes, I guess.” He toasted Harribel with the bottle and took another gulp, this one longer than before. He passed the bottle across to her and tried to exhale without feeling like he was breathing fire. “I spent all this time trying to think of a gift for Grimmjow’s birthday, came up with nothing, and when I finally arrive anyway he’s not even here to throw my shitty attempt back in my face.” Frowning at his feet, Ichigo leaned forward on his knees and sighed. “I probably shouldn’t have called you an asshole just then.”

“You have my forgiveness. Particularly because nobody has ever called me one before.” She blinked in sudden revelation. “Perhaps I am an asshole, and that’s why Nelliel fights my orders. Why Grimmjow is always trying to flee Las Noches.”

Ichigo shook his head firmly. “Nel just wants to stay because that’s where you are, I think. She’s really into that romantic knight stuff. You know those books on battle strategy she’s always reading? She said once that she hides Yoruichi’s trashy romance books inside those so nobody knows she’s got a thing for dominant historical romance stories.” When Harribel’s head whipped around to stare at him in surprise, he grinned. “You didn’t know? She loves that damsel in distress stuff. Protecting people she cares about is where she gets her mojo from.”

“Mojo?”

“Yeah. Her juice. Her energy.” The game had started: Karin up first in a one-armed push-up on red, her ass stuck in the air. Apacci was poking one cheek with a finger from the sidelines, trying to make her squirm. Kon looked like he was having a moral crisis. Thankfully Yuzu pointed Mila Rose at the scene, who lit a cero in one palm until Apacci backed off. Yuzu yanked the giant wheel and it spun around again. Bopping on her tiptoes, Nel was trading threatening verbal jabs with Rukia that he couldn’t hear. They seemed to be having fun though, if their smiles were any indication. “It’s so weird, seeing shinigami and arrancar here tonight, having fun. Just a shame Grimmjow left without seeing it.”

Harribel swished the remaining vodka around the bottle in a small whirlpool. “Grimmjow didn’t leave. He’s here right now, in that inflatable castle over there.” She pointed at the bouncy house Ichigo had walked past at least twice already. Long vinyl curtains hung across its entrance, hiding the interior, but there was a glow of overhead lights that said the structure probably had an open rooftop. “He got into his new gigai, I think, which is why nobody can sense him.”

Excitement, unreasonable and inexplicable, exploded under Ichigo’s skin. He coughed a little to hide it.

“So—how can you sense him?”

“I have a good nose for the scent of blood,” Harribel replied dryly. “At some point, I no longer needed a wound to be able to tell where they are. He’s avoiding everyone, as ever, but I think he wants to be found.” Her lips twitched slightly. “I have no notion who he might be waiting for.”

On the mat, Yoruichi had slithered under Karin, keeping her held up when her arm began to tremble. Rukia was doing the splits at the other end while Nel tried to poke her in places nobody should really be poked. Jinta, out of his pit at last, was standing around with a tray of new snacks trying to hold them high enough for Yuzu to grab. Yuzu took some, but it was only to hand-feed Mila Rose who was gripping Yuzu’s legs in one hand and the wheel in the other. On the other side of it, Urahara was trying to discreetly tamper with the outcome and failing.

Ichigo looked at it all for a long, affectionate moment, then swiped the vodka back from Harribel and got to his feet.

“Good talk,” he said, and started toward the inflatable castle. There was some joke in there about knights and princesses, he was sure of it.

“Likewise,” Harribel sighed, getting up in turn. “I suppose its time I put my sword where my mouth is. Urahara Kisuke! I challenge you to this flexible game.” A roar of delight went up amongst the small crowd, but Ichigo didn’t stick around to watch. Embarrassingly, he was almost trotting to his destination, hoping like hell Harribel had been right and he wasn’t about to be brutally disappointed.

Exactly why it would be a massive disappointment to find Grimmjow really had left was unknown to Ichigo, but he was beyond questioning those things. He wanted to see Grimmjow. That was all. Dropping his swords and reaching for the red plastic curtain of the inflated tent, Ichigo crawled up the thick floor of the structure and stuck his head in.

“Hello?”

The interior of the house, or castle, or whatever it was supposed to be was shadowed and sparse. It was clearly just a place for kids to jump around in, bouncing off the walls, the floor and each other. It smelled like reinforced plastic and fresh popcorn in there, but there was a person sitting in the only wedge of light afforded by the string bulbs hanging across the gaps in the ceiling. A person wearing a dark blue yukata and no mask. A bottle of something likely to be alcohol sat ignored in his lap as Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez looked at him in surprise.

“Kurosaki.”

“Hey,” Ichigo said gamely, crawling into the space and letting the curtain envelop them again. It didn’t dull the sounds of merriment outside, but somehow it felt like he’d entered an entirely different space. Grimmjow’s space. “I uh, got an invite from Urahara to come to your birthday party.”

Grimmjow snorted, throwing the cap of his bottle at the opposite wall. It bounced back into his hand like it was called there.

“Of course you’d be the only fucker feeling obligated to track me down in here and say it to my face.” His free hand jerked in a come hither motion. “Bet you even got me a gift like some sort of dumbass.”

“Nah,” Ichigo said coolly, something constricting strangely in his chest. “Couldn’t chop my own head off and give it to you on a platter, so I figured I’d just come and say hi. You can have the three inches of vodka left in this bottle though. Can I sit?”

“It’s not my house,” Grimmjow said, squinting at him. Without responding, Ichigo clambered across the unstable floor and crawled into the light alongside him, which was really just a warm triangle of less-darkness than anything really resembling illumination. Grimmjow’s weight and Ichigo’s so close together created an immediate dip they both sank into until they were pressed thigh to thigh. The heat of his body so close soaked right through Ichigo’s shihakushou, but what really got his heart thumping was the way neither of them did absolutely anything to acknowledge or recoil from it.

They sat quietly for a few seconds, just long enough to pretend it was normal. Ichigo quietly wondered exactly how drunk they both were. Surely not drunk enough.

“Why are you avoiding everyone?” Ichigo asked finally, tipping his bottle to his lips. Outside the tent it sounded like Team Urahara and Team Harribel were about to draw blood. “Other than the complete insanity it is having all these people in the one place where they could kill each other.”

“Hate the noise,” Grimmjow said, seemingly surprising himself as much as Ichigo by answering. “This thing’s just an excuse to get Harribel and Urahara to be friendly, anyway. My birthday, or whatever, was more’n a month ago.”

Ichigo blinked. “Mine too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Grimmjow dipped his shoulder into Ichigo’s. He was definitely a little bit drunk. “Happy birthday, asshole. I didn’t get you anything either.”

“That’s okay,” Ichigo said, leaning into the pressure against his side. The warmth Grimmjow’s skin was putting out was unbelievable. “Your gigai is pretty cool. I can’t pull off a yukata.” Ichigo took another quick swig.

“Could pull off this one,” Grimmjow replied. Ichigo spat his vodka all over their legs. “Hey, what the fuck.”

Too embarrassed to ask what he meant by that, Ichigo just coughed into his sleeve until he could breathe again. The crinkle of paper tucked safely away in there reminded him he was just a little bit of a liar. Clearing his throat a few times, feeling a rough hand pound between his shoulder-blades in what Grimmjow probably thought was helpful but was really just warm and confusing, Ichigo wiped his mouth and capped the offending bottle once and for all.

“Still alive, huh?” Grimmjow looked a little bit entertained by the show, a shadow of his old joker’s grin baring a hint of sharp teeth.

“For now,” Ichigo rasped, and reached into his sleeve. He tossed the envelope into Grimmjow’s lap. “Happy birthday, asshole.”

He tried to look away as Grimmjow slowly reached for the small white rectangle of paper, he really did. Instead he watched out the corner of one watering eye as surprisingly long, nimble fingers picked apart the tape holding the seal shut without tearing the paper. Without looking inside, Grimmjow stared at it, then Ichigo’s profile, then the envelope again.

“Just open it,” Ichigo said, definitely not looking that time. “It’s nothing, anyway.” The crinkle of fingers dipping inside the paper, the slight rasp as a small piece of cardboard was pulled out, and the sudden, devastatingly thick silence that followed made Ichigo want to crawl in on himself and die. He knew exactly what Grimmjow was reading on that badly decorated piece of craft trash. He knew because he’d designed and cut the thing into shape himself late the night before. Ichigo had coloured the outlined letters with Yuzu’s prized markers and glitter glue, and he’d meticulously written each letter with perfect care.

It still looked like a piece of shit, but nobody could say Kurosaki Ichigo didn’t have party manners. 

> _ the bearer of this tacky-ass ticket is entitled to _
> 
> ** _ ONE FREE FIGHT _ **
> 
> _ (per week) _
> 
> _ redeemable whenever, you may cash this in to receive a (non-life-threatening!) battle with kurosaki ichigo at a time and location of your choosing. _
> 
> _ happy birthday, grimmjow _
> 
> _ from ichigo _

That was his gift: something Grimmjow probably didn’t even want or need.

The silence went on forever.

“Anyway,” Ichigo said, trying to get his legs under him on the inflated floor, “I should get back to—”

“Every week?” Grimmjow blurted out, finally looking up. His fingertips were bleached white from how hard he was gripping the coupon. “There’s no fuckin’ end date on this. You forgot to make it end.” Jaw jumping slightly, he held it back out. “You can fix it.”

Ichigo looked at the coupon, then back up at Grimmjow’s conflicted face. It was easy to push his wrist away.

“I know what I wrote,” Ichigo replied. It was also easy to settle back down next to him. “I figured I don’t know what kind of things you like, but you always seemed like you had fun when we fought. I’m a lot better now than I was that time in Hueco Mundo.”

“Me too,” Grimmjow said blankly, almost whispering. “Every week?” he asked again, like he was waiting for the punchline. “Every week.”

“Did the gigai make you stupid or deaf?” Ichigo teased, trying to clamp down on the bubble of pleased warmth in his chest that had absolutely nothing to do with alcohol. “Give it back if you don’t believe me.” He reached for the coupon only to have it pulled out of his grasp. A shove on his chest sent him shooting straight out of the hidden castle and onto the dirt outside. Half the wind knocked out of him, the back of his skull aching, Ichigo laughed straight up at the fake night sky.

“I found Ichi-nii!” Karin yelled, standing on the sidelines and rubbing her ass. Her hair looked kind of frazzled. “He was hiding in the jumping castle! And—oh, there was a guy in there.”

Ichigo sat up in time to see Grimmjow finally venture out of his fortress of inflatable solitude, barefoot and a little reluctant. But he reached down and grabbed Ichigo’s forearm, hauling him back up onto his feet. Across the way, the twister game had come to an abrupt halt to witness the moment. Nel and Harribel were the only two still on the mats, nose to nose and trembling with prolonged strain. They couldn’t have looked away from each other even if the world was ending.

“Happy birthday, Grimmjow!” Rukia bellowed, waving what looked like an enormous rubber glove in the air. It flapped with the sticky sound of something that came pre-lubricated. “I got you a present!”

“Fuckin’ keep that!” Grimmjow yelled back instantly. Rukia had definitely had a little to drink because Ichigo had the singular pleasure of seeing her stretch the cow vagina glove back like a rubber band and send it flying across the distance. It only managed to nail Yoruichi in the face, which made Mila Rose laugh so hard Yuzu fell off her shoulder ass-first on the edge of the mat. Harribel and Nel collapsed in a bright flash of electricity. Everyone screamed.

“Now it’s a party,” Grimmjow said wolfishly, rubbing at the back of Ichigo’s head. “C’mon, Ichigo. Lets boil this shit out of our veins in the hot springs and start week one now.”

“Right here?” The hand on his wrist was hot and tight, jerking him along in his wake. “Are you sure?”

Turning slightly to look over his shoulder, Grimmjow cut Ichigo a single, bright blue glance that held all the intentions in the world. More.

“Yeah. I’m real sure.”

Ichigo stopped resisting the pull. Good manners, he told himself, even as he picked up his own pace so that Grimmjow didn’t have to drag him. Great manners, in this case.

“Hey, so what are you getting me for my birthday?” Ichigo dared to ask as the torchlit spring came into view. Steam curled invitingly off the water. “You missed it, you know.” Grimmjow glanced back once more, the curve of his mouth all that was visible. The hand on his wrist squeezed a little.

“I’ll think of something.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to wish trevo a perfectly happy birthday, but couldn't think of anything to write that really felt like it was truly for her, and not just another tropey grimmichi fic. so there's this: a birthday party like one i wish i could give her, a few of her fave things and hopefully just a whole lot of warm fun.
> 
> happy birthday trevo, you utterly _beautiful_ soul. thank you for making my life brighter since we met. and because i am nothing if not consistently cheesy (and like ichigo, i like to drop my presents at the last possible moment) there's one more little thing i have for you, and it's right....[here.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/bcca95d662878b953a91012ba85cf6db/tumblr_pwdjew7bqY1w47gtyo1_1280.png)
> 
> ♥


End file.
